<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Girlfriend by antithestral</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466090">The Girlfriend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/antithestral/pseuds/antithestral'>antithestral</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Humor, Coming Out, Identity Porn, Internalized Homophobia, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:28:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/antithestral/pseuds/antithestral</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal is dating Bruce Wayne.<br/>Hal is learning how to be friends with Batman. </p><p>As far as Hal is concerned, these things are not related.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>272</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the working title for this was "Hal Jordan Has A Girlfriend" but like now it just reads like i'm desperately copying fabula, even though, technically? i always am? but anyway i'm.......not gonna do that? um, so.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“And where are <em>you</em> going?”</p><p>Damn it. So close. He had been <em>so close. </em></p><p>Hal sighed and turned around. Batman was glaring at him, like <em>that</em> had any effect anymore. “Out?” he replied. “Away?”</p><p>Batman’s face acquired a new facet of grimdark edgelordy displeasure. “We aren’t done with the debrief.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>what, </em>the Vogons have a warp-adjacent hyperdrive now, their colonization of their own star system is slowly expanding, their fleet has been increasing, who <em>cares</em>, Bats! They’re in another sector, the Lanterns are on alert, and eventually they’re going to realize the real profit is in joining the trade coalition, not organizing imperialist circlejerks led by the royal family!”</p><p>Absolutely no effect. Batman’s face was hard as a gargoyle’s when he repeated, “You are <em>not</em> skipping debrief,” like some kind of mentally deficient parrot. </p><p>Hal felt his jaw drop. “Do you <em>literally</em> just turn your ears <em>off</em> when I talk?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, that isn’t an option.”</p><p>“Holy Jesus friggin’— AGH!”</p><p>“Feel better? No? Guess what?”</p><p>“You don’t care,” Hal finished mutinously.</p><p>“Yahtzee,” Batman replied with the <em>straightest </em>of faces. “Get in the goddamn briefing room.”</p><p>Hal sucked in a deep breath, and decided to change tacks. “Listen,” he said, going for placating instead of belligerent. “Okay, listen. I’ve got this date, right, and I’m gonna be late already, and my girlfriend is gonna chew my ass out, so please, <em>please—”</em> Placating. Begging. Whatever. </p><p>“You have a girlfriend?” a new voice chimed in and Hal counted it as a personal victory that he didn’t just give up and sigh for, like, a million years. </p><p>“Hello, Barry. Yes. I have a girlfriend.”</p><p>Barry was practically bouncing on his feet in excitement. “Why didn’t I know you have a girlfriend? Does she know who you are? Do <em>I </em>know her? Why didn’t she tell me she was dating you?!”</p><p>“Why didn’t— <em>Barry</em>. You <em>don’t</em> know her, okay? Your social circles do not intersect anywhere, at all, I promise you, now could you <em>please</em> fuck off.”</p><p>“Hey!” Barry protested, face crumpling immediately. God above. It was like kicking a puppy. </p><p>“What’s up?” Oliver asked, strolling up to the three of them.</p><p>Great. More people. That’s just what Hal needed: for his love life to become the night’s entertainment. </p><p>“Hal’s got a secret girlfriend,” Barry told Arrow. </p><p>“I do not—there is no <em>secret</em>!” Hal all but yelled. “There is just a date! For which I am getting progressively later!”</p><p>“And it’s going to keep getting worse,” Batman added blandly, “the longer you stay out here.”</p><p>“She hot?” Oliver asked, eyebrow quirked. </p><p>“WHO?!” Hal exploded. </p><p>“Your girlfriend.” </p><p>“Oh.” Hal flushed a little, quieting. “Yeah.” </p><p>“Where’s the date?” Barry put in. “I can drop you off.”</p><p>“So I look like I just stepped out of a hurricane?”</p><p>Barry grinned. “I’ll be gentle with you, you big baby.”</p><p>It was impossible to tell how much of the conversation Dinah had caught, but she nudged Oliver with her elbow, smirking. “Hal wants to look pretty for his girl, aw. That’s sweet. Hey, Ollie, how come you never want to look pretty for me?”</p><p>“Great, even more people, this is my dream,” Hal muttered. “Look, I gotta go home, get changed, fly over to the place, that alone is gonna take ten minutes—”</p><p>“Wait,” Dinah asked. “She’s not from Coast?”</p><p>Shit. Shit. He and his big stupid mouth. “….No.”</p><p>“Where, then?” Barry asked. </p><p>“...not Coast?”</p><p>Barry’s eyes turned to slits. “I thought she<em> wasn’t</em> a secret girlfriend.”</p><p>“She’s… very private. “</p><p>“I'm asking for the name of the city, not her social security number, you whackjob! What, you trying to pull a Batm—”</p><p>“Gotham,” Hal said quickly, flushing dully, painfully aware of Batman's eyes on him now. “She’s from… Gotham.” This was <em>exactly</em> what he’d been trying to avoid. </p><p>“You’re shitting me,” Barry said. </p><p>“Please just don’t.” He turned to the man himself. “Bats, I really do have to leave.”</p><p>“Lantern, have you considered that if this woman can’t wait the fifteen extra minutes this briefing is going to take, then this… relationship has already run its course? This might be a good thing. Think of tonight as a palate cleanser.”</p><p>“We’ve only been dating for three weeks!”</p><p>“Three weeks, and she’s chewing your ass out over dinner? Dump her.”</p><p>“Bats!”</p><p>Batman looked thoroughly unmoved, the bastard. It was Arrow who slapped his back and said, “Buck up. We get through this, I'll lend you my spare Zegna, and Barry can speed you over. You’ll be there with five to spare.” </p><p>*</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>As it was, Hal got to the restaurant only eight minutes late, which was okay. Probably. </p><p>They stopped in an alley, and Barry blurred out of his supersuit in the blink of an eye. Jacket collar pulled high, he walked beside Hal, rounding the corner out of the alley, to face Botticini’s lovely facade, enormous plate windows throwing spills of golden light onto the wet pavement, warm and bright, so unlike Gotham itself. Hal scanned the tables until his eyes landed on the back of a familiar, dark head. </p><p>“Do you see her?”</p><p>Hal shrugged, and lied through his teeth. “Nope.”</p><p>Barry socked him in the shoulder, but lightly. “See? Got you in plenty of time. And you doubted me.”</p><p>Hal pasted on a grin. “Yeah, yeah. How’s my hair?”</p><p>“Fantastic. Arrow said to tell you: she’s gonna want to take that suit off with her teeth.”</p><p>Hal’s smile turned a little more genuine. “Thanks, pal.”</p><p>“Go get ‘er, Romeo.”</p><p>Hal walked down to the door, pushed it open, went up to the maitre d’. The man eyed him appraisingly, twitching a customer service smile — <em>good suit, cheap shoes,</em> Hal could see him thinking. </p><p>“Hi,” he said, with blithe arrogance, leaning over the podium, aiming a thousand-watt grin his way. </p><p>“Do you have reservations, sir?” The maitre d’ asked snidely, and god, if this scene hadn’t been ripped straight out of Pretty Woman, Hal would eat his sixty-dollar loafers.</p><p>“My date made the reservation. Might already be here, actually.” </p><p>“Oh?” His eyes flicked down to the reservation book. “Her name, please?”</p><p>“<em>His</em> name,” Hal corrected smoothly, with a dangerous smile, “is Bruce Wayne.” </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Morning, Lord Vader!” Hal greeted, strolling into the Watchtower’s monitor room the next morning. </p><p>Batman did not look away from the screens, not that <em>that </em>was new. “You’re chipper,” he muttered.</p><p>Hal beamed at the back of his cowl. “That I am, Spooky,” he drawled, dropping himself lazily into the other chair, crossing his ankles on the desk. “That I am.” </p><p>“Last night went well, I take it?”</p><p>Hal grinned dreamily. “Very well,” he replied. He had the bruises to prove it. “<em>Incredibly</em> well. If you catch my drift.”</p><p>Batman grunted. He leaned closer over one of the screens, a blown-up map of the Republic of Kundu taking up half the space, export manifests scrolling through an exception program. Hal watched him work in silence. It felt like maybe that was where the conversation would end — but then the program terminated, and Batman sat back, with a faint air of satisfaction, and said, dryly, “There are prokaryotic bacteria in the Kuiper belt that catch your drift, Lantern.”</p><p>Al-<em>righty. </em>“I’d get mad,” he told Batman earnestly, “but—hey, you know what I think it is?”</p><p>A huff of air. “I’d rather I didn’t.”</p><p>“I think you’re jealous,” Hal told him, leaning over, sincerity dripping like honey from his mouth, and Batman actually turned away from the screens to glare at him.</p><p>“Do you.” His voice was flat.</p><p>Hal grinned wider, obnoxiously pleased. “Yeah!” He propped his chin up in his hands. “You know what you need, right?” </p><p>Hal could hear a slow exhale, like Bats was convincing himself murder was a bad idea. “I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”</p><p>“You need to get laid. And I mean, none of this, shag in a coat closet shit, right—”</p><p>“In a coat closet,” Batman repeated, sounding at least a little horrified. Hal decide to count it as a victory.</p><p>“I mean—you know what I mean!” Hal enthused. “What you need is the real deal! California king mattress, a whole day of nothing to do, screw until your brains come out of your cock, ja feel?”</p><p>“I sincerely hope not.”</p><p>Hal patted his gauntlet. “You’ll get there, pal. All that leather and those boots? Man, you’re <em>somebody’s</em> kind of porn.” </p><p>Batman turned to him. There was something terribly grave about his face. “Thank you,” he said to Hal with such honesty that for a second… Hal almost felt… guilty? About taking the piss out of him. And then, “Incidentally,” Batman added, with that same sincerity, “there’s also a tsunami heading towards Indonesia, but if you have any other helpful tips regarding my sex life—”</p><p>Hal’s eyes whipped to the screen, where the maps had shifted to a massive storm system over the Indian Ocean. “Shit! Shit!”</p><p>“Mm. That’s what I thought.”</p><p>*</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So I’m meeting the kids today,” Hal announced over the comms.</p>
<p>“Behind you, Lantern,” Batman snapped in reply.</p>
<p>As it turned out, the tsunami hadn’t been so much a tsunami as it had been shockwaves travelling across the ocean floor because Black Manta and his horde of minions decided to go drilling beneath the floor of the ocean on a hunt for some godforsaken long lost treasure of some or the other long dead Atlantean queen, and— alright, it <em>was</em> a tsunami, but the tsunami was a side effect, not the actual problem. Calling the tsunami the problem would have been like diagnosing someone with a runny nose while ignoring their end-stage lung cancer.</p>
<p>Arthur was dealing with the tsunami, but the army itself had been dumped on Batman and Lantern’s heads. More accurately, the army had been dumped solely on Green Lantern, who was clearing a path of entry for Batman to attack the drilling equipment planted into the ocean-floor that was causing the shockwaves. </p>
<p>“Cool, thanks,” Lantern replied into his comm, whipping around the flick a demolition ball at the approaching gunship into a dark, underwater cliff face. “Seriously, man, you got tips?”</p>
<p>“This feels like a good time to you,” Batman muttered irritably, piloting his one-man sub twenty leagues under the sea, “to chat about your <em>love life?”</em></p>
<p>“Right,” Hal groused, “because, any <em>other</em> time, you’d be totally down for a heart to heart.”</p>
<p>“….”</p>
<p>“Mm-hm,” Hal said, feeling vindicated. He smashed an ACME-style anvil into a small contingent of soldiers, and moved deeper, the pressure making his ears pop a little. “Come on, dude! You’ve got like, a small schoolbus of sidekicks—”</p>
<p>“They aren’t my <em>sidekicks</em>,” Batman growled into his ear, “they’re my partners.”</p>
<p>“See! You’re tight with the little anklebiters, you gotta tell me how to do that—”</p>
<p>Another exhausted huff of air, but if Bats really wanted Hal to shut up — well, the man had never refrained from it <em>before. </em>“Respecting them might be a good place to start,” he told Hal, because he was a <em>deeply</em> unhelpful, <em>contrary</em> motherfucker.</p>
<p>“You don’t understand, man!” Hal told him. “She’s like, loaded, alright—”</p>
<p>“Your mythical girlfriend?”</p>
<p>“My very <em>real</em> girlfriend, fuck you, <em>listen</em>.” An acid-green 50 .cal Gatling appeared in front of him, and he began shooting a clean line through the approaching battalion. “She’s Croesus rich, okay,” he told Bats, “filthy plutocrat Scrooge McDuck swimming in piles of gold rich, but she’s—I don't know, she managed to become, you know, a really good, kind, decent person anyway. ...Hey, you listening? Yo, Bats, your O2 sats are looking kinda bad, you okay down there?”</p>
<p>A pause. And then, quietly, “I’m heading into Manta’s rig, at the ocean floor.”</p>
<p>“Cool,” Hal said, “so my problem is— ha! Take that! My problem is, these are rich kids that she has, right? These kids of hers?” He bashed a wall of light into the remaining soldiers, and then aimed himself downwards too. “Silver spoons right up their asses, and I don’t know rich kids man! I don’t— I <em>hate</em> those little bastards, what if they catch on on that? What if… Bats? You there? B? Batman, come in.” An explosion rocked the whole rig, and Hal felt his heart catch in his throat. “Batman— FUCK!”</p>
<p>*</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p>Hal stared at the silver-flecked tiles of the waiting room, and thought of nothing. Nothing. His head was a blank, staticy wall of greyness, and his throat was hoarse and sick, and his heart was— He shut his eyes, when he felt the burn there.</p>
<p>After the explosion had gone off, Hal had dived down, a singular horrified panic gripping his throat, jettisoning himself forward so hard a sonic boom ripped through the water, supercavitated air engulfing his body as he hurtled down to the oceanbed, letting up only when the structure at the base became visible. The airlock was undamaged, somehow — Hal went through it, and into the tiny ops center, where two engineers lay unconscious, tiny black tipped darts sticking out of their necks, lolling in their seats, in front a smoking, blackened control panel. Batman had been thrown back by the force of the blast — he was crumpled at the back of the room, and Hal picked up gently, cradling the back of his head. There was no way to check for a pulse — and how had Hal never noticed how much the Batsuit covered? — but he touched his fingers to Batman’s cheek, felt the soft warm brush of his exhale, and found his own lungs somehow expanding with acrid, desperate air as he called for an emergency zeta.</p>
<p>Dr. Leslie had been waiting for him by the time he got to the hospital wing, and Hal had laid him out on a stretcher with an awful wrenching feeling in his throat, hands numb, mouth numb. He had let Leslie push him into one of the wiating room chairs without protest, eyes on the bland, inoffensive tiling, while time stretched and warped around him, and then lost all meaning altogether.</p>
<p>So maybe that was why he didn’t expect it, when the medbay doors slid open, and Dr. Leslie walked out. “Hey!” he called out, getting to his feet, his knees offly stiff. How long… Jesus, how long had he been sitting here? “Hey, doc.”</p>
<p>Leslie frowned at him. “Lantern?” she said in a vaguely puzzled tone. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“I just— I know he’s out for the count,” and his voice cracked a little, so Hal paused, swallowed, adn then forced himself to continue, “but he’s going to be okay, right?”</p>
<p>More frowning. “I beg your pardon. Who’s out for the count?”</p>
<p>Hal blinked at her. What the fuck? “Batman!” he snapped.</p>
<p>“Batman?” Leslie repeated blankly. “He’s fine. He’d just passed out from the pressure change. Popped his eardrums a little, no big. He left twenty minutes ago.” She shrugged. “A little time with an O2 tank, some multivitamins, plenty of sleep tonight, he’ll be back to superheroing before you know it.”</p>
<p>His head was pounding. “He left.”</p>
<p>“Yes. I did say so, didn't I?” the doctor said, a bit testily, but who cared, who the fuck cared—</p>
<p>“He <strong><em>left?!”</em></strong></p>
<p>Leslie sighed. “<em>Yes</em>, Lantern. He left. He was discharged,” she said, adding pointedly, “so he left me <em>alone.”</em></p>
<p>But Hal had stopped listening to her entirely, “Why, that unbelievable, goddamn ungrateful, bloodsucking son of a—” He spun on a heel, stalking out of the goddamn medical wing.</p>
<p>“Lantern?” Leslie called out, sounding somewhat alarmed. “Where are you going?”</p>
<p>“I’m late!” he snarled over his shoulder. “For my date! AGAIN!”</p>
<p>*</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hal was shoving a hand through his still-wet hair when he stepped out of the elevator on the top floor, which opened directly into the penthouse’s foyer. </p><p>He’d only managed to grab a quick shower before changing out of his flightsuit into something non-awful — a threadbare, green USAFA t-shirt that Bruce seemed to always like, and comfortable Levi’s. Between rushing out of the bath and putting on his people clothes, Hal had only found enough time to glance at his phone where a text was waiting from Bruce, asking him to stay in the city instead of driving out all the way to the Manor.</p><p>He tugged his t-shirt down, and clasped his watch closed as he strode through the corridor, pasting on a smile when he stepped into the living room, where Bruce was frowning at his laptop, the screen’s blue glare bouncing off of his narrow, rimless glasses and obscuring his eyes. Hal’s smile turned a little more genuine at the sight of him, mussed hair falling over his forehead, five o’clock shadow and that sulky, downturned mouth, and he paused behind the sofa, one hand sliding over Bruce’s shoulders, brushing a kiss at his temple, as he murmured, “Hi, baby.”</p><p>Bruce looked up, blinking, like he hadn’t quite heard him come in. “Hal,” he said warmly, a smile breaking across his eyes. “Sorry about the change of plans. I know you wanted to meet the boys, and Damian normally goes to bed a lot later, but he had tennis practice with his coach today, and he, well— it knocked him right out.”</p><p>Hal blinked. Paused. It was the strangest feeling…</p><p>“Hal?” Bruce prompted, staring up at him, puzzled.</p><p>“Hm? No, it’s just—” He shrugged. “That’s too bad.”</p><p>Bruce smiled gently at him, shrugging. “No big deal,” he said. “You can meet him another time.”</p><p>“Right,” Hal said, only his neck was prickling and something felt… odd. “And, uh, sorry I'm late. Again.”</p><p>Another smile. Bruce’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “You’re not late,” he murmured softly, and his thumb grazed the back of Hal’s hand, and it drove him crazy, how hot even that little touch was, “In fact, you’re just in time for what I had in mi…” Bruce paused, sniffed the air delicately, and made a face. “Hal? Why do you smell like fish?”</p><p>Aw hell.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Some eleven hours later, Hal slumped into a chair in one of the Watchtower’s smaller conference rooms with a sigh. Batman was by the coffee machine, but he had schematics of the ocean floor where the rig was buried on the screen, and Hal scrolled through the data interestedly. “Hey,” he called out. “Mind pouring me one?”</p><p>Batman set a second mug in front of him a moment later, sugar and cream the way Hal liked it. “Thanks. Do you know when Superman’s gonna come by?”</p><p>“He’s late.”</p><p>Hal saw his chance. He leaned over the table towards Batman. “Not to beat a dead horse here,” he said in his most friendly, diplomatic voice, “but I really think Aquaman and I can handle dismantling Black Manta’s drill by oursel—”</p><p>“No,” came the flat, curt reply.</p><p>“‘No’,” Hal repeated, and felt his hands tighten into fists. He clenched his jaw, exhalingharhsly through his nose. “That’s it?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Hal could feel the way his nostrils flared and his shoulders hunched up. There was a black thing in his gut. “I don’t even merit a goddamn <em>vote</em>?”</p><p>Batman didn’t bother even looking up at him. “Like you said,” he murmured, sounding bored, “let’s not beat a dead horse.”</p><p>“You fucking narcissistic prick,” Hal snarled, “get your eyes off the tablet. I’m a member of this League, same as you, I deserve two seconds of your time to discuss a goddamn League endeavour! Dismantling the rig is going to take days of <em>careful</em> work, not brute fucking force, and your MO of throwing Superman at every goddamn problem isn’t—”</p><p>“Superman is there as a precaution,” Batman replied, and he was looking up now, the flat white lenses staring balefully at him, but it was the evenness of his tone that was driving Hal right up the <em>fucking wall, </em>“a precaution that Arthur supports. And this isn’t about the drill.”</p><p>“Yes, it is!” he snapped. “Do you think I’m <em>lying</em>?”</p><p>Batman paused for a moment, and then, in a voice that was, possibly, fractionally gentler, he said, “I think you’re projecting.”</p><p>“Projecting.”</p><p>“Accusing me of things you’d really like to accuse someone else of.”</p><p>Hal kicked back his chair with a unholy shriek of metal-on-metal, and leaned over the table, snarling, “I know what <em>projecting</em> is, goddammit!”</p><p>Batman stared at him.</p><p>And just like that, the fight went out of him. A slow rush of embarrassment rose up, and Hal let his knees buckle as he fell into his chair again. He rubbed his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, gruffly.</p><p>Silence from the other end of the table.</p><p>Hal glared at him. “What?” he demanded, feeling pathetic and vulnerable and a little too seen. “No snide response to that?”</p><p>“Your apology,” Batman murmured. “It’s not going well.”</p><p>Damn it, today was <em>not </em>his day. “Yeah,” Hal sighed, “yeah. I’m sorry. You’re right. Of course you’re right.”</p><p>“Problems with the hypothetical girlfriend?”</p><p>Hal laughed, without a trace of humor. He gripped the back of his neck, slumping forward on the table, elbows making deep blue marks on the screen. “She… doesn’t actually want me to meet the kids. Figures, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Another long pause. “I thought you didn’t <em>want</em> to meet her kids,” Batman said.</p><p>Hal looked up. He wondered what Batman saw in his eyes, because the way he felt… His throat ached when he spoke. “Of course I did, Bats,” he said softly. “They’re important to her. Of course I want to meet them. She… she’s the kind of parent you read about in papers, you know? Lifting cars and saving the day.”</p><p>A wry twist of that inscrutable mouth, and Batman said, “Are you sure you aren’t dating Superman?”</p><p>“Har-har. No, she’s… I mean, I’ve got this ring, and Barry's got his thing, and Diana's a goddess, you know, and most of us, we’re all… but even without all that… she’s. Special. Any kid of hers, well, how would I <em>not</em> want to…? And she played it off well, right, but I got plenty of experience lying. I can tell when I'm being lied to. Tennis coach, my ass.”</p><p>“There’s a <em>tennis coach</em>?” Batman asked pointedly.</p><p>“Shut up,” he sighed, head falling back against the top of the chair so he could stare at the flat-panelled, metallic ceiling.</p><p>“The <em>tennis coach</em> wasn’t your first red flag?” Batman needled.</p><p>“Shut u—” Hal paused, and then sat up straight, eyes sparkling with sudden delight. “Are you— was that a joke?” he asked, and then clutched his chest. “Bats, I’m going to swoon, were you cracking wise to make me <em>feel</em> better? I’m— oh, be still my beating heart—”</p><p>“Shut up,” Batman growled, and Hal beamed at him.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When he got to the Manor, it wasn’t Alfred who got the door. “Hi,” said the stranger, and Hal’s first thought was, <em>‘Oh god, Bruce was cheating on him.’</em></p><p>His second thought was, <em>‘Oh god, Bruce was cheating on him, and Hal couldn’t </em>compete<em>.’</em></p><p>In retrospect, it was possibly not his best moment.</p><p>But the twink didn’t seem to be aware of Hal’s moment of personal crisis, so he just said, “It’s Hal, right? Come on in!” with a shiny, thousand-watt smile. “I’m Richard! Everyone calls me Dick!”</p><p>Reflexively, Hal said, “And you let them?”</p><p>Dick Grayson arched an eyebrow at him. “Wow, you’re feelin’ real secure in this relationship, huh, pal? You know,” he added conversationally, “I'm his favourite.” <em>His favourite?! What the fuck?</em> “I could bring this whole thing right off the rails in two seconds.”</p><p>Hal slouched lazily against the doorframe, crossing his arms and aiming his meanest smile at the precious little baby stripper. “<em>Favourite</em>, is that right?” he drawled, and watched Bruce come down the grand staircase behind ‘Dick’, and stride into the anteroom. “Let’s ask Bruce, shall we? Let’s ask him right now, come on. Hey, Br—”</p><p>“He-e-ey!” Grayson said loudly, as he whirled around, smiling to mask his panic. “Bruce! I like this one. Keeper, totally. You got my approval.”</p><p>Bruce paused, blinking absently. “I do?”</p><p>Hal paused too. DId he just get… inducted into… what? The Wayne harem? DId Bruce have a <em>harem?! </em>Did billionaires really have <em>HAREMS?!</em></p><p>“He does?” Hal asked blankly.</p><p>Dick turned back to grin at him, and this time the smile even reached his alarmingly blue eyes. “Yeah!” he said, with bright, glittery enthusiasm, and oh god, he was Bruce’s <em>kid</em>. He was the— the oldest one, the cop from Bludhaven, although how someone like him made it through police academy and stayed this peppy, Hal did <em>not</em> fucking know<em>.</em> Dick just beamed at him. “Totally, man,” Dick said, “you got spunk!”</p><p><br/>Oh great. He had <em>spunk.</em></p><p>
  <em>*</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>who knows if this one will have a proper ending<br/>not me, that's for sure</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>